imagine all good things that haven’t happened at dawn though they could
if there wasn’t that dawn mr nothing was private [here name] he thought everyone
has some reason to be ashamed of but what if of such reasons there are three hundred and six
which reminded him of the arithmetic of compassion he had heard once about
the other day while reading the newspaper with his good old friend mr cogito
whose entourage had long ago fled into barbed badinage and defiant roars
as hardly anyone was prone to listen to philosophers any more not to mention poets
so then mr nothing was in somewhat of a melancholy mood for quite some time
in fact lasting from the very moment after leaving his hamlet in some godforsaken place
when became convinced that he had exchanged ignorance of the sacristy for the idolatry
of the flesh and of the ‘i’ and when upper-case letters vanished from his life for good
but by no means became less ridiculous than a teenager whom he wasn’t for ages after all
he even returned to the old riddle over which puzzled in his youth where is the deeper truth hidden
in volumes of classics lying on the shelves or in the everyday battle with dust on their edges
but somehow under the guise of a serious conversation about the victims of shell shock
and the military tribunals during the great war could be felt the shadow of oblique thoughts
that he refused to admit even to himself intoxicated while still broad awake and aware
of the order of things thankfully he still could have long discussions on historical topics
or about the meaning of the kumogakure chapter of the classical masterpiece the tale of genji
as in the end the eloquence has always been a fairly good fig leaf even for a literary entity
hidden pilcrow 